*As I was searching through my drafts pile, I found this old post from June 2011. That’s TWO THOUSAND ELEVEN. I have no idea why I didn’t post it. Here goes: The kids and I are still reading a bit of Vile Verses every morning. They are a tad bit morbid. We either laugh our […]Read More Poetry: Roald Dahl (again)
The Passing of the Year by Robert W. Service My glass is filled, my pipe is lit, My den is all a cosy glow; And snug before the fire I sit, And wait to feel the old year go. I dedicate to solemn thought Amid my too-unthinking days, This sober moment, sadly fraught With much […]Read More One Day More…and a new year begins
This day, In sadness borne, We must confess: The Spirit of the Age Has crushed The infant in the cradle. And yet: O glorious yet, One day, in gladness shown, We must profess: The infant from the manger Has crushed The Spirit of the Age. Tristan Gylberd (1954-) (HT: TulipGirl)Read More A War on Christmas?
These few lines from an Augustine sermon may not have a title; nevertheless, may they serve you as well as they did me early this morning. Merry Christmas! *** Man’s maker was made man, that He, Ruler of the stars, might nurse at His mother’s breast; that the Bread might hunger, the Fountain thirst, the […]Read More Christmas Morning [meditating on the Incarnation]
The Oxen by Thomas Hardy Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock. “Now they are all on their knees,” An elder said as we sat in a flock By the embers in hearthside ease. We pictured the meek mild creatures where They dwelt in their strawy pen, Nor did it occur to one of us […]Read More The Oxen [poem by T. Hardy]